


when i hold your hand the world will envy us

by virgo (gradually)



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Genderfluid Character, M/M, Morning Sex, Other, Post-Drift (Pacific Rim), Sleepy Newt, genderfluid hermann, i change my verb tense approximately 500 times, uwuuuuu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 10:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14542278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gradually/pseuds/virgo
Summary: It was the liminal space after the war clock was turned off completely, and Hermann had not stepped into his shared lab since.newt and hermann cuddle a lot. title from exo-m’swhat is love.





	when i hold your hand the world will envy us

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! hello everyone to another party.
> 
> a note abt ship tags: as a genderfluid person myself, i tagged it under m/m as well as other cause sometimes hermann isnt a man and thus its not m/m. just for clarity! <3
> 
> this all started bc my friend - who is also my beta tysm <3 - suggested on a whim i write fic abt hermann + space leggings. well, i fucking did it.

Although not scientifically accurate, Hermann’s favorite pair of leggings were the space-themed ones. There were constellations sweeping over his legs - Pisces on one knee, Taurus on the other, with the inklings of Virgo's brightest stars bending over into the waistband. His left calf contained within itself an entire galaxy, brilliant purple and white that seemed to shift if Hermann closed his eyes. Hermann was reminded of the first time Newton had seen the other scientist wearing something other than what he described as a “frumpy schoolboy getup,” the way he coughed up an awkward laugh as his face reddened. Hermann could tell Newton was trying not to stare, and had tucked the thought away for later. 

It was the liminal space after the war clock was turned off completely, and Hermann had not stepped into his shared lab since. His uniform had become Newt’s oversized collegiate sweaters and the surprisingly large array of leggings he owned. At one point he had had to plead with Newton to not get him  _ kaiju leggings _ of all things.  _ Of all things _ ! Hermann had bought them for their comfort and utility, not to look like some kitsch fiend like Newt. Newt, who was currently turning around in bed looking for Hermann, who had sat up to stretch and rub a cramp out of his leg. Newton’s arms flailed, eyes still tightly shut, until his hand found the side of Hermann’s back. As if immediately placated, Newt scooted closer, still stealing all the covers, and curled up around that spot.

The days had seemed to fold into each other during that time. Both scientists were finally able to recover from years of lost sleep. Once in a while Newton mentioned to Hermann over whatever video game they were playing that such and such person was leaving the Shatterdome and on to other things, but the urge hadn’t struck either of them to check their email accounts that began to overflow with offers to teach all across the country. Newton, being one of the only Kaiju biologists on the planet, was especially pressured, but as everything Newton did, he refused to think of it and instead did the exact opposite.

Hermann let out an involuntarily hiss when he pressed too tightly against a knot of muscle and felt Newt stir next to him. The other scientist finally crawled out of his blanket pile, disoriented with sleep and placing a gentle kiss to his neck. Hermann smiled at that as Newt’s hands found his own. 

“What time’s it, babe?”

Hermann hoped Newt couldn’t see him blush. “I honestly have no clue.” Morning? Maybe. It didn’t look dark through the blinds from where he could tell without his glasses on.

“You’re cute. Come back to bed?” 

“If you insist.”

Newt chuckled and pressed a second kiss to his neck, this one slow and deliberate. “I do insist.”

Hermann turned slightly to face Newton, kissing him back deeply, and was pushed back fully onto the bed, a whispered  _ oh, okay, yes _ escaping his lips before he could swallow it down. Newton only laughed, their foreheads touching, and Hermann found his laughter so beautiful and so contagious that soon he was laughing too, and they had no clue why, but there they were, survivors of a fucking apocalypse having the genuine privilege of being able to spend the rest of their lives together if they so desired.

The laughter devolved into kisses again, this time with much more intention from Newton, and a small bundle of excitement grew in the pit of Hermann’s stomach and spread electrical currents across his arms and to his fingertips as he ran his hands along Newton’s spine and set them firmly on Newton’s thighs, digging in deep enough to hear the man above him sigh. Hermann drank it in, dizzy in the sweetest way with the knowledge that Newton was pliant in his grasp.

Newt shifted slightly so he was properly straddling Hermann, his hair disheveled and grin wild as he laughed to himself, trying to find words.

“Hey - hey - Herm,” Newton began, only to keel over giggling, face resting on Hermann’s chest.

“Yes?” Hermann raised an eyebrow even though the motion would be imperceptible to Newt.

“Could I have you for breakfast?”

It takes a second for Hermann to process. He laughs, airy and in love, and kisses Newton hard, hard enough he hopes, for the other to understand that that is a resounding yes. Just to make sure, he repeats it into the bruise of a hickey from a couple of nights ago, biting at the tender spot to darken the mark once again. A monosyllabic prayer.

-

Hermann fumbled for his glasses, one arm tucked underneath Newton who was tucked into his side, the other aimlessly hitting the bedside table until his hand made purchase with glasses. Hermann put them only to find that they were Newton’s and sighed.

Now that there was no impending doom or war clock, there was really no need to know what time - or what day - it was, but old habits die hard, and Hermann couldn’t put the gnawing in his mind at peace until he knew what time it was. Something in him craved order, craved the hustle and bustle, and something else told him that craving wasn’t necessarily inherent.

The years of whatever this war would be called in the history book had taken a toll on himself and Newton. They deserved hours, days,  _ fuck it _ , even  _ weeks _ of nothingness and peaceful oblivion to recover for all the times they wish they had but had to pull 48-hour days on nothing but coffee and fear.

Hermann’s ankle was sticking out of the duvet, thanks to Newton stealing the blankets again, and the brightest star of Libra lay there, connecting with a stray freckle. Libra, which Hermann had read about, as soon as he had received what he at first called garish leggings from Newton. Libra was the (cardinal? mutable? he confused the terms constantly) air sign of the late fall. Two equidistant concepts in perfect harmony and tension.

Hermann liked that idea.


End file.
